Little Blue Journal
by GoldenPuppetMaster
Summary: A Rumbelle AU based off the movie, The Notebook.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N-This is an AU based off The Notebook. I don't know if someone has already written this. I did look around and couldn't find any, so I went ahead and wrote this. So alas, I give you the first chapter. I hope you enjoy. Thank you. **

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><p>It was universally recognized that true love was the most powerful magic in all the realms. Powerful enough to bring back even the most lost souls. So lay the desire to rescue a lost soul, in the heart of Mr. Gold. Feeble and worn with age, he walked with a limp, and stopped in a doorway at the end of the hallway. In his calloused hands he carried a little journal, softly colored in a sweet sapphire. The pages were thick, yellow parchment, rough with texture. He enjoyed the feel of the pages between his trembling fingers, or perhaps he held a great fondness for the floral handwriting dancing along each page.<p>

"Hello Miss French." Two beautiful cerulean eyes met his.

He paused and in took a breath. Never would he grow used to her beauty.

"Hello," she smiled politely.

She sat peacefully—almost angelically—before a window in her room at the nursing home. The sun from the hot afternoon poured light deliciously down her petite frame.

"Do I know you?" His smile faltered, though not enough for her to notice.

"No," he tried to laugh, but it came more as a cough, "no. I am terribly sorry. Where are my manners? I am Mr. Gold."

"Oh," she gave him a gentle smile; though it was obvious she held little interest.

"It's a beautiful day." He stated, attempting to stir up a small conversation.

"Yes, I-I love the warmth."

"I know," he bit his tongue realizing his mistake, quickly adding, "Who doesn't? Our old bones have a greater appreciation for the warmth."

She eyed him inquisitively, but said nothing. He noticed she held a book in her lap, and promptly inquired, "Something I would know, perhaps?"

She glanced at the book than returned her gaze to him, "Pride and Prejudice."

"Ah, yes, of course." He stepped through the threshold to gain a better view of her face.

He knew quite well that she loved that book, in fact; he'd watch her read it about a hundred times.

"I've never read it before. It seems lovely so far," his expression fell, and she observed the quick saddening of his features.

"Not something you would choose to read?" She questioned. Always curious, something's never change, he thought to himself.

The familiarity in her essence caused the ghost of a smile to haunt each corner of his mouth. With a tender side grin he answered, "Actually, once upon a time I knew a librarian who happened to have recommended I read it, and so, to please her, I did."

"She must have been a very smart woman," she giggled.

"Very smart indeed," he returned, the grin spreading to a full smile, "Speaking of stories, I've come to see if you would like to hear a story."

"Oh, I absolutely love stories," she announced.

"Wonderful," he began, "would you like to walk down to the library with me? We can sit by the glass doors, and have a beautiful view of the lake?" She looked unsure; he even thought she might reject him, "Alright," she responded quietly.

Transferring the journal to his left hand, he used his right to help her stand. He offered his arm for her to intertwine hers; she did so with slight hesitation. The first few hours are always the most difficult, he thought to himself, at the very least she had accepted.

They arrived at the library, and strolled toward the back by the large French glass doors that opened out to the dock. The couple inhabited the two crème colored sofa chairs placed in front of the doors.

"Mm," she hummed.

"You like the view?" He guessed.

"Yes, very much."

"Good, good thing. I'm glad." He cracked open the book, and before he could begin she interrupted, "This isn't a sad story, is it?"

"There are elements of sadness in it, like every story," she looked uncomfortable, perhaps even frightened of the idea of a sad story.

"Nothing to be worried of, I think you'll enjoy it," she watched him, still, with uneasy eyes, "I give you my word."

Only then did she seem to relax. In his front left pocket, he pulled out a pair of black-framed reading glasses, which he slid into place. He then removed a handkerchief with a red rose embroidered on the silvery fabric, clearly using it as a book mark, and began.

"June 6, 1940 Rumplestiltskin-"

"Rumplestiltskin?" She exclaimed, "What kind of story is this, exactly?"

"Ha-ha, oh trust me, he knew just how ridiculous it truly was," her brow furrowed in quizzical excitement; he found her expression comical.

"May we call his Rumple?" He froze, peering at her over the frames of his glasses.

"Why would you want that?" He wondered.

"Rumplestiltskin is lovely and all, but it is much too formal. Names are important, and should only be used when truly necessary. Rumple seems like a pleasant secret shared between two toddlers. Don't you think?" She awaited his answer; he sat baffled by her reasoning.

"I suppose—if it pleases you," he replied after a moment, and she smiled widely.

He replaced his finger at the beginning line, and commenced once again.

June 6, 1940, the day they met.

Rumple was thirty-two working for the lumberyard. He was a small man, not very muscular, though still more than capable of hard labor. His dusty brown hair fell to the tops of his shoulders, lathered profusely with sweat and oils. The group of young men he worked with had babbled all day about the festival scheduled for that night; Rumple was uninterested, claiming he'd retreat home for a good night's rest instead. Archie, another lumberyard worker and the closest person Rumple had to calling a friend, caught him just as he left, and convinced him to go—if only for a little while.

The village square was filled with a massive gathering. There were foods of all sorts' boiling stews, sugary sweets, garden-fresh fruits, and warm bread. The music was loud, and had inspired many to grab a partner and dance. Children played games here-and-there, and once in a while they'd dart off running in certain directions, chasing a small animal or simply chasing each other. There was a gargantuan bonfire in the heart of the gathering, so fierce and violent it was as if the flames touched the sky, lightening the heavens. The village people rejoiced wildly around it. Rumple followed Archie throughout the sea of people. He looked over the flames, across the village square, and there stood the most glorious being he had ever seen.

Her name was Belle. She was seventeen.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N- I'm going to play a bit with Belle's character. In this piece I want to highlight her socially awkward side, whilst having her bravery intermingled. Hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading!**

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><p>"Red, who is that?" Belle grasped on tightly to her friend's arm, whispering her question quickly into Red's ear.<p>

"Who?" Red followed Belle's gaze out across the bonfire.

"That one," Belle pointed inconspicuously, "the one that keeps staring at me."

"Archie? The one with the glasses?" Red ogled over Archie for a moment, and Belle rolled her eyes.

"No the one standing next to him," Belle stated becoming slightly frustrated.

"Oh, that's Rumplestiltskin," Red stared at him directly in eyes, catching his attention.

"Don't look at him!" Belle whispered fervently, "You'll encourage him."

"You know, he must really like something about you because he usually doesn't like anyone. I think Archie is his only friend in this whole village. Apparently, his father abandoned him as a little boy."

Belle gasped, "That's terrible."

Red nodded, "Don't know what happened to his mother. After his father left him, two spinners took care of him. Both have died now, of old age."

"Oh," Belle was quiet as she processed the information.

"Do you want me to introduce you?"

Belle eyes grew wide with shock, "No!"

"_Alright_, alright. I was just asking," Red continued to gawk at Archie, and seconds later said, "Let's go over an introduce ourselves, what do you think? Oh wait-" before Belle could reply, Archie and Rumple were walking directly to them.

"Their coming this way," Red whispered excitedly, and Belle nearly panicked.

"What do you think they want?" Belle asked nervously.

"Haven't you ever been love, Belle?" Belle chewed her bottom lip, and remained silent. Red quickly understood.

"Well, all you need to know is act normal." She advised, keeping an uninterrupted gaze on the two men approaching.

"Normal?" Belle's voice rang in a higher octave, "Red! I've been known as the oddest girl in the entire village since we were children. I've been made a fool all my life because I've never been _normal_." Belle could feel blood rushing to her face; her neck felt as if it had been set on fire, a quick glance revealed red, blotchy spots scattered over her chest. The nerves heighted, she thought she'd faint.

"Relax Belle, you'll do just fine." Belle surveyed Red's face—almost annoyed with the ease at which Red could speak to others, especially male others.

"That's easy for you to say. At least you don't sound like you have a boulder falling from your mouth every time you try to speak." There was a gentle cough, signifying both Archie and Rumple had not only arrived, but had unfortunately overhead Belle's flustered comment.

Belle's face burst into a bright crimson, Rumple smiled, barely containing his kindhearted laughter. Red gracefully ignored the comment, choosing instead to introduce herself.

"Hi, I'm Red." Archie beamed at her.

Red elbowed Belle to signal her to introduce herself, who was still incredibly embarrassed. Belle remained silent, and Archie, sensing her discomfort, responded, "Lovely to meet you, Red. I'm Archie, this is—"

"Rumplestiltskin," Rumple interjected; his eyes remained glued on Belle's form.

"Nice to meet you," Red began though her focus was clearly on Archie.

"Likewise," Rumple returned, "And you are?"

Belle took a deep calming breath, "I-I-I'm Belle." She abhorred her stutters in moments as these.

"Belle, means beauty in French does is not?" Rumple asked, she nodded, "Well then, it suits you perfectly."

She blushed; though she secretly wondered if he was only trying to lavish her with pretty words. Observing his kind honey brown eyes, she knew instantly he spoke wholeheartedly, and the new found knowledge only deepened her blush.

He enjoyed her rosy-cheek blushes. Not in a teasing manner, but rather in a sense of primal satisfaction—the ability to make her blush so easily, while having just meant her.

"Have either of you had the chance to try the roasted pecans?" Archie asked, perking an eyebrow.

"No, have you?" Red's voice was bubbly with flirtatious excitement.

"Not yet, but I've heard they're wonderful. Would you care to join us?"

"We'd love to!" Red nearly jumped out of her own skin with enthusiasm.

Belle shot her a nervous look, "Actually," she interposed, "I really should be getting home. Papa doesn't know I left the castle. It's late, and he'll be worried."

"Castle?" Rumple questioned, utterly shocked.


	3. Chapter 3

"There are castles in Storybrook?" Rumple spoke.

Belle laughed, shaking her head as she realized how silly she had sounded and clarified, "No, my papa calls it a castle. It's more of an inside—family joke, because it's…well, a rather large estate. I grew used to calling it that, I suppose."

"Ah, I see," Rumple nodded.

"Aw, c'mon Belle," Red turned and grasped Belle's shoulder, "he knows that you and I were together. If we left, he'll probably assume you're with me. Let's have a bag of pecans, then we'll leave," Red offered.

Belle was torn. She knew her father would be worried, "Red please, perhaps another time. I shouldn't have even come in the first place."

"Where do you live?" Rumple asked, directing the question to Belle.

She hesitated, knowing better then to answer that question for a man she had recently met; Red, on the other hand, was not so careful, "Up north from here, about five miles."

Belle sighed exasperated, and placed her hand on her forehead.

"Do you have a car?" Archie asked.

"No, we walked," Belle shot her a glare; Red did not notice.

"Well, it's awfully late for you both to walk home alone in the dark. Why don't you at least let us walk you back?" Rumple proposed.

Belle opened her mouth to reject, but Red answered, "Sure!"

"Give me just a minute," Archie began, "I'll buy four bags of pecans for the road."

"That'd be great," Red replied.

Rumple followed Archie, leaving the girls alone, giving Belle the opportunity to speak with Red privately.

"What were you thinking?" Belle nearly shrilled, her voice constricted with anger and fear.

"What do you mean?" Red asked nonchalantly.

"Accepting their offer, telling them where I _live_! Red, we don't even know them. They could be dangerous."

"You read too many books, Belle. And anyway, they seem really nice," Belle rolled her eyes, and knew it was hopeless to continue arguing.

Rumple and Archie returned, and Archie distributed the bags amongst the four. Belle took hers reluctantly, not wishing to be rude. It was clear to her that the two men had little money, and it had been kind of them to buy a treat for her.

"Shall we?" Archie held out his arm for Red, she giggled and took it happily.

Rumple did not repeat the action, much to Belle's relief. Instead, he walked closer to her, only inches away. At first, Belle felt uncomfortable with his proximity, but he was respectful and kept the same distance from her, allowing Belle to become calmer as they walked.

"Have you lived in Storybrook long?" Rumple attempted to perk up a conversation with her, once they had left the noise of the gathering behind.

Red and Archie walked far ahead, leaving Rumple and Belle practically secluded, apart from the trees outlining the sidewalk. They strolled leisurely.

"No, we just arrived for the summer," Belle spoke quietly, out of nervousness or disinterest Rumple could not discern.

"Where did you move from? I noticed your accent. Australia?" Rumple wondered.

"Yes, that's where I was born," she reassured.

"Do you miss it?" He inquired, and Belle's gaze dropped to her feet.

"Sometimes…but I've always fancied the idea of an adventure. I've always wanted to see the world." He wore a side smile as she spoke; he thought her voice, or her accent, was delightful.

He decided to change to topic to something a little less probing, "Well this part of town is like the back country. This is where all the major events happen, just like tonight's bonfire gathering," Rumple informed.

"Downtown is where all the buildings are, and the shopping centers. I'm sure you'd love it there," he presumed.

"Probably not," she refuted.

"Oh?" he turned to look at her.

Her face had soft porcelain-like skin, which harmonized perfectly with her lovely red lips. She had chestnut curls that bounced along her shoulders; the color emphasized her beautiful cerulean eyes.

She bit her bottom lip, and mumbled, "I-I love books."

"You like to read?" The moment the words left his lips, and he realized the stupidity of the statement, he wished he could have slapped himself.

"Well, yes, liking books usually implies reading," her sarcasm made his cheeks tinge a slight pink, however; she had giggle pleasantly at the statement, seeming to enjoy his remark.

He remained silent then; his hands tucked away in his jean pockets, as he watched the sidewalk. Belle felt poorly for her previous tone. She decided then to participate in the little questionnaire he had initiated, "And you? I noticed an accent as well. I believe it's Scottish, no?" He smiled kindly, and Belle was surprised as she felt a sudden swarm of butterflies ripple through her.

"Yes," he confirmed.

His smile was warm, sweet, and overwhelmingly enchanting. She gaped at him without noticing.

"Did I say something wrong?" He worried, examining her expression.

"No-no, I'm sorry. You were saying," she prompted him to continue.

"I'm originally from Scotland. My father moved me here after my mother died. They are both gone now," he spoke the last bit in a hushed tone, and Belle felt guilty for having known part of his background due to Red's gossip.

"I'm so sorry," she comforted.

"It's no matter," he stated nonchalantly.

"But, it should matter. Shouldn't it?" Belle knew she was delving too deep with her questions, but she was too curious to withhold.

He looked at her for a moment, and she almost regretted asking, but then he answered, "You're right, but it didn't seem to matter much to anybody else, so why should it matter to me?"

"Well, you loved them didn't you?" she bit her tongue when she saw his rather uncomfortable expression.

Regardless of the difficultly he answered, "Yes, I did."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said-" she fell silent, embarrassed.

"No, no. Don't feel sorry. I haven't spoken of them in years… actually; I haven't spoken much at all. If anything, thank you," he smiled again, that charming smile.

She remained silent, but she tossed him a quick small smile in response.

"You really are beautiful, Belle," he savored her name.

The unexpected change in topic staggered Belle; she processed the compliment and laughed ungracefully high-pitched with nervousness.

She turned to gauge his expression, and saw his sweet eyes watching her. Again, she gawked at him uncontrollably. She was so absorbed in his energy that she did not notice the small bump in the sidewalk.

Her toe collided with the bump, and she flew forward. Bracing herself, she instinctively brought her arms to cover her face, and shut her eyes tightly, expecting pain. Moments later, there was no pain. She hovered over the cement, and two arms were wrapped snugly around her, holding her in place.

She peeked through her eyes, and discovered Rumple's face only inches from hers. She could feel his warm breath tickling her lips. He looked at her intensely, for a moment, and then righted her quickly into a standing position, releasing his hold on her as if he'd been burned.

"I-I-I'm sorry. I've always been so clumsily. T-Thank you," she stated breathlessly.

He waved off her gratitude, and replaced his stare on the sidewalk. The rest of the journey they were silent, until they reached the front gate of Belle's home, where they met with Archie and Red, who were laughing at something Archie had said.

"Well that was fun," Red stated, her eyes glistening with glee.

"Yes, that was," Archie agreed.

"This is your house?" Rumple spoke for the first time since her near fall.

"Yes," Belle replied.

"I can see now why you call it a castle. It's bigger than anything I've ever seen," he huffed out a laugh of astonishment, and she laughed.

"Hey, you guys didn't even touch you pecans," Archie stating, noting the small bags in both their hands.

"I must have forgotten," Rumple stated, honestly.

He had been more focused on Belle then anything else.

"I'll eat them when I get inside, as a late night snack," Belle, much like Rumple, had forgotten the pecans, having focused her attention on the conversation instead.

"Thank you, for walking us back," Belle began, "that was very kind of both of you."

"It was my pleasure," Rumple stated, seizing eye contact with her.

They watched one another intensively. Archie and Red glanced at one another popping both their eyebrows up in surprise and questioning. Archie cleared his throat, breaking the moment. Belle and Rumple turned their attention to them.

Red spoke, "Well, I'd be go. I have an archery lesson in the morning. I live just across the street. Granny will be angry with me if I'm too tired."

"I'll walk you," Archie stated.

As they left, Red threw Belle a mischievous smirk, followed by a quick nod toward Rumple. Belle's jaw dropped at the silent insinuation, and she shook her head. Red shrugged her shouldered, and crossed the street, with Archie by her side. Luckily, the quick exchange between the girls went undetected by Rumple.

When they were once again alone Rumple began, "Could I," he stopped mid-question, and she perked an eyebrow waiting.

"I was wondering if perhaps I could," he struggled.

"If maybe you would," he could not seem to produce the right words.

"Would you go out with me?" He couldn't manage to make eye contact with her.

His hands were in his pockets, balled into fists. His gaze was on the floor, while his shoulders were hunched; his whole body tense in fear.

"I-I," she did not know how to answer, as she had never been in a conversation as that one before.

Of course she had offers, but all her suitors had been picked by her father. There had never been a conversation between her and the suitors beforehand. She had rejected them all like business suggestions. This was different. This was a real, true, and an intoxicating offer. How could she resist?

"Alright," she escaped his presence by darting through her front gate and into her house, leaving Rumple alone outside her gate, his heart pounding, with his darling smile.

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><p><strong>AN- Thank you so much for reading. I hope you've enjoyed it so far. **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N- I just have a quick announcement. I am currently in the process of moving, so my updates maybe be three to four days apart, although I'll try to update as often as I can. I do hope that does not discourage you from reading. Thank you so much to all my readers. Enjoy!**

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><p>"The next day was like any other for the both of them. Belle studied her books, while Rumple worked at the lumberyard," Mr. Gold paused, and glanced at Miss French to gauge her reaction to the first bit of the story.<p>

"I like stories like that, please go on," she was anxious to see the following; it was clear in her eyes.

"Alright, but how would you like to sit outside for a bit? The fresh air was lovely this morning, and I'm sure it's warmed up a bit since then."

Again, she appeared hesitant, but obliged only moments later. They intertwined arms, and strolled leisurely to the end of the docks on the lake, where they found two small benches.

"Oh, oh my!" Miss French gasped, and Mr. Gold's head shot in her direction, panic quickly inhabiting his facial features.

"What? What is it? Are you alight?" his voice was tense.

"Yes, yes," she assured, "quick, look over there," she pointed with her delicate finger toward the water.

"Swans," she whispered mesmerized, "I've never seen one before. There's four, look!"

"They are always around," he remarked.

"Really, it's a wonder I've never seen them before," she replied disinterested, choosing to keep her focus on the swans.

"Oh, I believe you have," she glanced at him confused, but he quickly change the subject.

"Now, where were we?" Mr. Gold, once again, pulled out his reading glasses, and placed them near the tip of his nose.

He relaxed, leaning his back against the wooden back of the bench; miss French remained perfectly postured, her attention drifting toward the group of swans circling in the water.

"Ah, yes," he began, "their first date."

"Wait," she interrupted suddenly. She appeared stricken with sadness; Mr. Gold became worried.

"You don't wish to hear anymore?" he questioned unsure.

"Yes! I mean no. I would like to hear more. I just seem to have this horrible nagging feeling that I've heard this story before. Could you tell if I have?" she looked at him, hopefully.

"Yes I could," he was quiet.

"Could you please?" she insisted.

He struggled for a moment, not wishing to tell, and then blurted out, "You have," not meeting her gaze.

"Many times? her voice was thick with dread.

He nodded.

"But don't you worry yourself too much. I forget things all the time. I attribute it to the old age." She knew he was lying, by the tremor in his cheek, and his uncomfortable smile. Nevertheless, the gesture strangely comforted her. She held her hands politely in her lap, and waited for him to continue. He followed suit.

Rumple arrived before Belle's gate clean, shaven, and in his fanciest Sunday clothes. He saw no way to enter, and settled on waiting for her outside until she came out. The sun settled. It was well into the night, the air was frigid, when finally, he spotted her leaving the colossal doorway. She was dressed in a lovely, form-fitting dress. The color was beautiful, the same as her eyes. She had a lighter blue sweater wrapped around her, and she walked briskly down the steps of her house to avoid the chill. She flung open the gate, and jumped back startled.

"Oh, Rumple," she stated rather breathless.

He berated himself for frightening her.

"I'm sorry," he attempted to apologize, but she was not listening, instead; she asked,

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, I thought we had a date," he replied, becoming nervous that she might have changed her mind.

"Oh no, I must have forgotten. Rumple, I am so sorry, but I promised Ruby I'd see a movie with her tonight."

Rumple deflated.

"Maybe it was just not meant to be," she offered.

"I refuse to believe that," he responded, lightly.

Ruby appeared from behind Rumple, and much to Belle and Rumple's surprise she had her arm interlocked with Archie.

"Hey, look who's here," Archie stated, cheerfully.

They were followed by another large figure. When it stepped closer, Rumple could discern, with the aid of the streetlight, the figure was a man with greased, jet-black hair. He wore a fiery red shirt, with charcoal-colored pants. Rumple could hear an annoyed sigh escape Belle's lips, though his gaze was not on her.

Ruby spoke first, "Rumple, I don't believe you've meant Gaston yet."


	5. Chapter 5

"Gaston is Belle's boyfriend," Ruby stupidly stated.

The man savored her appearance-Belle. Rumple's jaw clenched, enough so that Belle could see the muscles ripple in his cheeks. Belle thought Rumple would explode from the sudden rush of redness that ate at his face. His veins seemed sewed into his neck. She swore she could see the throb of his heartbeat in the crook of his neck. Belle stepped forward, and stood by Rumple, attempting to keep peace in the tense moments of introduction.

"He is not my boyfriend," Belle spoke quickly.

"That's not what your father has been saying," Gaston began, stepping forward, directly in Belle's path.

He did not turn to acknowledge Rumple, perhaps as a subtle implication of his sense of superiority; Belle was unimpressed, much to Rumple's enjoyment.

"He is not my boyfriend!" Belle stated aggressively.

Rumple noticed the discomfort in her voice. Gaston's presence had upset her. He decided to step closer to her side, leaving him only inches away from her arm. Gaston faced him then; he scrunched his nose as if he had smelt something awful then returned his hungry gaze at Belle.

"Where did you find the dogs?" Gaston sneered in Rumple and Archie's direction.

Archie deflated immediately, as he was unfamiliar to the rabid and unexpected hostility of some of the rich folk.

Rumple did not flinch, as he had worked (farming) for a wealthy family in his younger years, and he had closely observed there attitude and social culture. Ruby's smile flattened, and her brow furrowed as she began, "That was rude."

"Just stating facts," he shrugged his shoulders, with his hands facing outward, trying to appear innocent, "How are you doing tonight Belle?"

Gaston came closer, grabbing both of Belles's hands. Rumple's back straightened, every muscle in his body tightened like piano strings.

"May I say that you look," he glanced at her from head to toe, "ravishing tonight." He licked his lips, and Rumple sucked in a deep breath, inanely trying to control his emotions.

Belle did not respond to the compliment.

"Gaston," Belle called and he listened, "Rumple," she called and faced her, relaxing his glare when meeting her sweet face.

"I thought only Ruby and I would be going out tonight...and maybe since Rumple and I had a previous engagement...well, I'd like to go with him," Rumple's chest involuntarily puffed, and a smile spread like a wildfire across his face.

Belle returned Rumple's smile, then returned her annoyed look toward Gaston. Gaston, rather than be civil grew furious at Belle's rejection. He stepped forward more, and grabbed both her wrist forcefully. Belle yelped. Rumple threw the first punch.

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><p><strong>AN- Sorry this is so late, I've had a hell of a pass few days. Thank you so much for your comments, and to all my readers. Thank you. This chapter is VERY short, but the next will be around a thousand; it's all I can manage for now. Thank you, and hope you enjoyed!**


	6. Chapter 6

Rumple did not realize what he had done until his fist grazed past Gaston's head, luckily only catching the top of his left cheek. Gaston staggered backward a few steps; his hands reaching to cup his cheek in pain.

"Ow! You rotten—" Gaston spat, but was quickly interrupted.

"That's enough! Stop!" Belle stepped forward in-between the two men; her arms spread with her hands on each one of their chests.

"What do you think you are? Savages? This is not the way to settle disagreements. Gaston, leave," she ordered firmly.

Gaston's eyes widen in shock; he appeared on the verge of tears, "But-but—"

"But nothing," Belle was already terribly embarrassed not only for Gaston's treatment toward Rumple and Archie, but for the spectacular that had just unraveled.

Gaston paused a moment, watching her in shock. He huffed, sneered in Rumple's direction then turned to leave.

"You'll pay for this," he muttered as he stalked off into the night.

Once Gaston was out of sight, Belle turned on her heel to face Rumple, who wore a satisfied grin on his face.

"And you," she began loudly, "you should be ashamed of yourself. You could have hurt him, or worse he could have hurt you. I hate men! Are all of you bone heads," she ranted on for minutes, and Rumple waited patiently for her to calm.

"I'm sorry. I did not intend to frighten you. I did not enjoy the way manner in which he was speaking with you," Rumple attempted to explain, but Belle was furious and experiencing a slight nervous breakdown.

She wished to cry from the angry that whipped violently through her, but she contained herself—with much difficulty.

"You should learn to control your temper!" She poked her finger into his chest, his smile long flattened.

"I-I, never again, I give you my word. I will never fight again," Rumple watched Belle's expression melt into relief.

"Well, then," she was speechless.

Everything had occurred so quickly. Only now did she process the events. Gaston, Rumple, Archie, everything. The humiliation broke her instantaneously; she began to weep. Rumple was at her side in a heartbeat. Usually, he would have asked permission to grasp her hand, but the situation overwhelmed him with the desire to comfort her—he embraced her impulsively, pressing her face into his chest. Her tears only last for a few moments, and she sniffed her sobs away.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know he was coming tonight. I thought it was just Ruby and I and then you showed up and Archie- and Archie what he said to you- oh, I am just so sorry," Belle's tears burst as she spoke, recalling all the events.

"Shh, it's alright," Rumple cooed.

"Oh, this is all so embarrassing," she spoke as if she were the smallest creature.

Rumple perked up then, and said, "Hey, let's all go see a movie. I know this lovely theater just across the street from an ice cream shop. We'll watch a movie, and then get a sweet treat after. What do you say?"

Belle was silent as he spoke—distracted, as a toddler would become in the midst of an outburst. She smiled kindly through her tears and croaked, "Alright."

Ruby and Archie both nodded, eager to get out of the blue that had suddenly compassed them. They began to walk toward the theater; Rumple and Belle in the lead. Each couple walked, arms intertwined, and in the matter of minutes they were all adorning beautiful smiles, and glistening eyes.

"I really am sorry. You must think I'm a mess," Belle began sheepishly, wiping her face clean of stray tears.

"No, no, not at all. If anything, I think you're honest with how you feel, and that's well…rather brave, I say…and you must not apologize for that brute and his crude behavior. You should tell your father of him," Rumple was soft with his words.

"My father wouldn't believe me," she looked away from his, and appeared almost defeated.

"Why wouldn't he?" Rumple wondered, not wishing to pry, but wanting to aid her.

"My father has known Gaston only two weeks, as I have. Gaston behaves completely different when my father is present. He is gallant, polite. What my father mostly enjoys is Gaston's position. He is a militant—high ranking…he is—" Rumple interjected.

"Above financially stable. To be polite," Belle nodded in response.

"Do you…like him," Rumple questioned, nervous and unsure of her reaction.

Though he had observed her interaction with, he wanted her to verify what he had seen.

"No, I could never truly give my heart to someone as superficial as he. To me, love is layered. Love is a mystery to be uncovered. Money will never be involved in my choosing of love," Rumple's smile nearly devoured his face.

He turned away from her, so she would not see. Rumple bit away his smile and turned to her, "Well, perhaps you can forget all that, tonight. You'll love the movies."

Belle hesitated. In all the excitement, she had not completely thought through her actions. She questioned now whether she wished to go at all. She bit her lip with the intensity of her internal battle, and Rumple noticed.

"What are you thinking of?" Belle glanced at him shocked that she was being watched.

"Oh nothing," she waved her arm, trying to lessen the importance of her thought.

"I don't mean to intrude. You just seem troubled," he waited for her to respond.

She opened her mouth to spoke, and held it open like a gaping fish. Her brow furrowed, and she closed her mouth again, as if lost for words.

"Perhaps this isn't a good idea," she began unsure.

"What do you mean?" Her words almost hurt him, but he brushed aside the feeling to truly understand what bothered her.

"I-I," Belle, in reality, did not understand herself what she was terrified of; she knew though, that she felt oddly normal when Rumple was around.

"It is only a movie Belle. See if you can enjoy yourself for some time. If you don't wish to stay, I'll bring you home right away. You just tell me. Alright?" Rumple offered, and Belle nodded.

They arrived at the movies, and Belle felt surprisingly calm.

**A/N-Thank you all for your patience. Hope you enjoy. I have loved reading your comments. Thank you again. **


	7. Chapter 7

A nurse dressed in pale blue scrubs came to greet the couple sitting on the dock. Miss French, who found herself completely engrossed in the story was startled when the small woman made herself known.

"Sorry to interrupt, but lunch is served in the commons," she smiled in Miss French's direction, and Miss French returned the gesture more out of politeness then genuine happiness.

"We'll be right in," Mr. Gold answered for the both of them.

Miss French felt a surge of indignation, and argued, "But you haven't finished yet. You can't just…stop in the middle. What happened to-to Rumple or Belle? Do they fall in love? Do they end with a happily ever after?" she spoke quickly, perhaps out of desperation to know the story in its entirety.

"Ha-ha," Mr. Gold gave her a wonderful smirk and spoke, "there is plenty more to hear, I promise," she beamed at him, "but, after lunch," she deflated defeated and sighed.

"I suppose your right," she stood on her own; declining his offer of assistance when he placed his hand out for her to grab.

He smiled again; more so at himself than anything else.

Miss French had that _spark_ about her; a quality Mr. Gold found amusing and totally irreplaceable.

They journeyed to the building, and as they neared the door Miss French gently intertwined her delicate arm around his. She allowed him to hold the door open for her as she walked in, seemingly losing a hint of happiness upon their return to the building. She never did enjoy the inside of the building as much as she enjoyed the lake, especially the interactions she had with the swans.

Together they walked down the hallway to the commons area. The wooden floor clinked beneath their footsteps. They past many doors, cracked open enough to peek inside. Mr. Gold avoided glancing inside, knowing he would only be greeted with tragedies; Miss French, on the other hand, did look. Her gaze fell upon bed-ridden patients. Their eyes were glazed, and they all seemed a thousand miles away.

There was one patient, though, a woman who appeared agonized. She was so small—fragile even, and she made no sound. Her pained expression was so striking it caused Miss French much distress. She wished in that moment she could run to the older woman's side, and comfort her in some way. She had stopped dead in her tracks with the intensity of the distraction. Mr. Gold had turned to see what had called for her attention. His gaze fell upon the older woman, and his expression darkened with sadness.

"Do you think," she began barely audible, "that we will…"

"I do not know Miss French, and so I find that…at least for the mean time, there is no reason to worry," her brow furrowed lost with his train of thought.

He thought drastically different than her, "And if it were to happen to one of us. To fall ill in such a way that you can no longer walk, talk, or anything. Isn't it important to consider the possibility that we are not invincible? To prepare for the worse…the unexpected…the terrifying that is so incapable of touching us in our _perfect_ lives?" The sight of the older woman had troubled her, he discerned; she only grew sarcastic when she was truly attempting to make a serious and valid point, which often times hurt her feelings.

Mr. Gold's grip tightened on the little blue journal he held in his left hand. He was quiet for a long moment before he answered, "Yes, you are absolutely correct. I believe I may have allowed my cowardice to show. I am terribly sorry," he watched her now, choosing to look away from the twisted figure in the room.

She rolled her shoulders, straightening her back, "You are not a coward. You are human. I am afraid myself you know. I think we all are."

"Of death?" he verified.

"And of life too," she added, looked away, and then tugged on him lightly to continue down the hall.

Her grip on his arm, after the older woman's room, was tight and almost fearful. Miss French held on as if she were falling in a black hole, and she did not wish to lose him. She was afraid—_afraid_ to lose him. How odd, considering he was a stranger to her, but the comfort she felt around his presence did not seem so..._unfamiliar_.

They occupied two chairs in the commons, and Miss French remained sitting while Mr. Gold passed through the food line, collecting food for them both. He returned with two trays covered in colorful fruits and vegetables. Having placed both trays on the table he replaced himself in the chair before her and began to devour the contents of his plate. The sour image of the older woman drifted further when Miss French observed how Mr. Gold enjoyed his lunch.

"My, you are a great eater," she stated, content with his unparalleled joy for eating.

"Try the melon, it's wonderful," she obeyed his requested.

Her eyes twinkled with the deliciousness of it all; he smiled at her approval.

As she cleared her plate she became more and more anxious.

"Something wrong?" Mr. Gold inquired when she began to shift uneasily in her seat.

"No-no, it's just—" she stopped mid-sentence, embarrassed.

"Yes," he encouraged.

"What happens? Does she leave him in the theater? No, she wouldn't do such a thing. She'd be foolish to do so. He already sounds so…so…magnetic. Do they stay with each other all night? And that Gaston fellow, what happens to him? Do he and Rumple get in a fight later on-oh no Rumple promised he wouldn't? So, what happens?" she leaned closer to him eagerly awaiting.

Rumple chuckled softly and began, "Alright then, as you wish."

Rumple and Belle arrived at the theater. She was fully engrossed in the movie, while he was fully engrossed with her facial features. The way her lips would curve subtly when something would please her. Her cerulean eyes sparkled with enjoyment, and her cheeks glowed with kindness and warmth. She was incomparably beautiful.

They had bought a small popcorn to share between them. It sat on the floor now, half eaten and ignored. Archie and Ruby sat on Belle's left side; lost within themselves. Belle and Rumple had shared a teasing glance as they observed the couple.

The movie passed quickly for the both of them, or perhaps it felt that way because Rumple never tired of admiring Belle, and she had thoroughly enjoyed the movie.

"Hey, let's get ice cream," Archie offered, and Ruby accepted in a heartbeat.

Rumple leaned toward Belle's ear and whispered, "Do you want to go somewhere with me?"

She felt his hot breath against her ear, and it sent a strange—unfamiliar—shiver down her spine.

"Sure," she nodded, appearing excited; he beamed.

"Hey Archie, we'll see you later alright?" Archie smirked.

"Do I hear wedding bells?" Ruby playfully swatted at Archie for his comment; Rumple rolled his eyes, while Belle was blushing and silent.

"Goodnight," Rumple stated with an undertone that ended the conversation, though he was not angry.

"Nightly-nite, don't let the bed bugs bite," Ruby called to Belle.

"Goodnight Ruby," Belle shook her head from side-to-side.

Rumple and Belle traveled opposite directions from Ruby and Archie; in the direction of the outskirts of town, near the location of the festival where they had met.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked curiously, with a slight feeble tinge of uncertainty.

"Somewhere special."

* * *

><p><strong>Hope you have all enjoyed. Thank you all for reading, your patience, and your kind words. Thank you! <strong>


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